Predawn Darkness
by jellyblobs
Summary: As the identity of Emrys is finally revealed to all, Morgana begins to doubt her goals, Merlin starts questioning destiny and Arthur struggles to come to terms with the revelation of his manservant's magic. Life is hectic for the people of the people of Camelot as the final fight begins. Can they overcome the darkness so that the time of Albion may finally dawn? Reveal fic No slash
1. Prologue

Prologue

Pain. A single short word. Yet at that moment it was all that could describe Morgana's existence. All there was left for her. All that she was.

"I do not tolerate betrayal, Morgana. Surely you must know that by now?" Mordred's voice was cold and mocking as he moved the blood-drenched dagger across her once porcelain skin again and again, carving an intricate pattern of poppy red on white with a sick sort of relish. He was a master craftsman admiring his work, but his craft was not carpentry or blacksmithing. No, his craft was torture.

He fed off the screams of his victims, off the pain in their eyes, off their fear.

And Morgana knew this – he had at one time been her ally after all, her only true friend in her obstinate fight against her brother, but the thought of this sent terror down her spine. Was this really what she might have become? What _had_ he become? For she could see no trace of the little boy she had helped so long ago in the face of her tormenter. No, this face was filled with one emotion and one emotion only – pure and utter hatred.

"I stopped you from taking five innocent lives to appease your hatred," she spat back at him. "When will you realise that it's time to stop, Mordred? How many more lives must be sacrificed before you realise that it's all over?"

Mordred just smiled.

"Oh Morgana, it's far from over. You may be too weak to seek the revenge that you deserve, but I am not. No one stops me, Morgana. You should have known better than to try."

And with that, he poured hot oil over her wounds.

Fire singed her very being and the flames of pain blazed across her tormented body with more vengeance than she thought possible. It was too much. Too much to bear. She couldn't keep it up. She could no longer hold back the long, agonised scream that had been building in her throat. It wrenched the air around her, piercing the very fabric of nature as the clearing was filled with the voice of pain itself. Never ending, inescapable pain.

Her body convulsed, powerless to stop it, helpless against the boy that stood smirking in front of her. Only the chains grinding against her wrists prevented her from collapsing - chains immune to her magic and to her desperate bids for freedom, so that she could only watch as Mordred hacked slowly away at the already strained threads that held her being together.

And suddenly, she knew that she could not take it any longer.

She needed it to stop – death would be welcome, it would be bliss compared to this. It was too much. It had to end. It had to end _now_.

And in a last desperate attempt to end her agony, she called out with her mind to the only person she knew that could stop this. She called out to her last hope.

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Hi this is my first ever fanfic and I'm being rather ambitious (there's a long story to come - this is just a sort of taster!), so if you're still reading, I'd like to say a massive thank you!

Box of virtual cookies for anyone who reviews - would really be much appreciated and bonus cookie for any constructive criticism because the whole point of this is kind of to improve my writing skills, so please, please, please review! I'm really unsure about this, so I'd love to know if you like it!

jellyblobs


	2. Chapter 1 An Unwelcome Truth

A/N: Just for clarification, the scene in the prologue actually takes places towards the end of the story. Don't worry, I'll slowly build to it and all will be revealed in time! In this chapter, we go back to the beginning, which takes place sometime in S5 (or my imagination of S5 based on the hints we've been given if you like since it hasn't started yet), so Mordred is a knight!

Oh and I think I have to tell you that I don't own Merlin! Please enjoy...

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Chapter 1 – An Unwelcome Truth 

"Who is Emrys?" Morgana spat out the words, deadly venom escaping her lips with every syllable.

She pressed her knife a little harder against the throat of the small girl and a few droplets of crimson oozed from the knife edge in stark contrast with her waxen skin, like a dribble of paint on a blank canvas. The whimper of pain that ensued emanated terror in its purest form, but Morgana's attention was focussed on the man before her.

"Tell me everything you know, Iseldir, or else…" and Morgana's lips twitched upwards as her gaze flickered momentarily to the frightened girl.

But Iseldir was not shaken. Equanimity still radiated from his every pore as he addressed the witch before him,

"How like your brother you really are, Morgana Pendragon. He too stood on that very spot only two years ago with a blade against the throat of an innocent. I told him then and I tell you now: there is no need for such violence."

"How dare you compare me to that tyrant!" Morgana snarled and a few more drops of blood trickled onto the blade. "I gave you the opportunity to give the information willingly - I do not forget the help the druids have offered me in the past, but you forced my hand, Iseldir, and now you will give me the information I desire or…" She glanced again at the girl, now trembling against her arms.

"She dies," she said simply.

"The girl has done you no harm, Morgana. You wish to know about Emrys? Then you shall, but first release her."

Morgana scrutinised him closely, searching for deception almost compulsively, before slowly withdrawing her dagger. The girl took a full minute to free herself from the grip of shock and panic and then she bolted out of the cave, away from the blade and away from the sneering face of Morgana that would haunt her dreams for many months to come.

"Now, tell me, who is Emrys?" She whispered the last word, the hatred in her voice cold enough to freeze rivers and deadly enough to poison entire armies.

And so Iseldir told her. About the ancient prophecies. About destiny. And about the once and future king of all Albion

And Morgana's hatred turned first to confusion, then to shock and then to anger.

She was angry. More angry than she had been in a long time – the feeling blazed in her heart, it consumed her thoughts, consumed the niggling splash of doubt and fear in the back of her mind. For it was not true - it _could_ not be true. Arthur would never accept magic. He was his father's son through and through - a tyrant too stubborn to ever admit the error of his ways. Morgana knew this. She _knew_ it. For she would not consider anything else, she could not consider, not even for a moment, the thought that her life may have been nothing more than…

"Lies!" She screeched, her anger exploding out in that single word. "Nothing but lies! Tell me where Emrys is now or I will kill you all for telling me such lies!" Her tone had become dark and dangerous. "You expect me to believe that my darling _brother_ will accept magic after all he has done? After all the people he has murdered in cold blood?" And she laughed, a mirthless laugh filled once again with that powerful hatred.

"You do not wish to believe me. That is your choice, but it does not alter the truth, Morgana. And one day, you will learn to accept it, however much pain it may cause.

"You wish me to tell you where Emrys is? But you already know. You have known for years. He has been right before you all the time – you just never looked. You avoided the truth in the hope that doing so would make it no longer true. It does not. For Emrys is already known to you by another name, by the name of-"

"Merlin"

Both heads turned startled to see the form of an adolescent boy with jet black hair glide into the cave.

"Mordred!" There was a hint of long unused affection in Morgana's voice and her face lit up in surprise and welcome, before suddenly morphing into the picture of incredulity. "What do you mean Merlin? It can't be.. I've met Emrys, he's an old…" Then her eyes widened in comprehension.

"An aging spell," Mordred stated with no hint of emotion in his voice.

_Merlin_? It couldn't be. How? How could it? Surely if he had magic, he would have… She had considered him a friend. She had confided in him. And all along he was Emrys? All along he was her doom? Merlin? It was laughable! He was just an idiotic servant… An idiotic who caused more trouble than Arthur and his knights put together. A mere _servant_ who had foiled her plans, murdered her sister and lured away her trust only to poison her in cold blood. No, he was more than a servant. She could see it now. He had been scheming and cunning. He had tricked her. He had tricked her just like he had once with all his pretended show of care. It made the monstrous flames of anger rose in her chest once more. _Or maybe you're just hurt that he left you alone to your confusion and fear and decided to side with Arthur, _said a small but insistent voice in the back of her head. She quickly pushed it down. Merlin had betrayed his own kind for that tyrant. He was willing to sacrifice the lives of thousands of innocents, _including mine,_ so that an unjust king could sit upon the throne that was rightfully hers.

"He will pay. He will pay will the lives of all those he holds dearest, starting with his beloved king." It was no more than a whisper, but if a whisper could kill, then Merlin would already be dead. "I shall make him watch as I suck the life out of each and every one of them."

"Then you'll be glad to know," Mordred said in that same uncaring, emotionless voice, "that I have already… _persuaded _ all the kings of the five kingdoms to lend us their armies and am currently one of Arthur's most trusty knights, perfectly placed to, shall I say, _strike him down_." At this, his lips curled upward.

Glacial smirk met glacial sneer and in that moment of perfect understanding, great evil was hatched and over the days to come, it would smother the world in a darkness so absolute, it occurs only in the moments before dawn.

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Thanks to Sinji and Solar07 for reviewing the last chapter. Any comments or criticisms are always welcome, so please hit the blue button!

Next chapter: some Merlin and Arthur, so keep an eye out!

jellyblobs


	3. Chapter 2 The Revelation

Next chapter! Sorry it's rather short but I wanted to end it there (because I'm evil hehehe) - the next chapter shall be longer I promise!

Disclaimer: In case you haven't realised, I don't own Merlin!

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Chapter 2 – The Revelation

Reigns rattled in time with the clanking of weapons as horses huffed in the chilly, pre-dawn mist that was thick with the fearful anticipation that precedes only war, destruction and death. Morgana Pendragon sucked it all in hungrily, feeding off the tension of the ten thousand soldiers that stretched out behind her. It never failed to give her that exhilarating feel of power. This was what she lived for. This was her elixir of life.

It was time.

Using only her mind she reached out and called to her partner in evil.

"Mordred."

And several miles away, in the safe hustle and bustle of Camelot castle, in the cheering warmth of the throne room where the daily council was taking place, Sir Mordred heard her.

"Dispose of Arthur Pendragon NOW"

In the physician's quarters, Merlin started.

He recognised that voice.

The collection of oddly shaped potion bottles he had been holding were thrown violently around the room and shattered with an almighty crash, their contents streaming instantly across the floor in a swirling mass of colour, but the physician's assistant was already out of the door.

Merlin bolted down stair after stair, barely taking time to gasp for air, knowing that that he had seconds to get to the throne room. Knowing he had to get there. A chasm of dread was building at the back of his throat. He wasn't going to make it. But he had to. He had to. Or else...there was no question about it, Arthur was going to die.

With a single flash of his eyes, Mordred threw the dozen courtiers and knights in the throne room into the air and with a series of thuds, their bodies smashed against the floor metres away and every last one fell unconscious.

King Arthur looked up in astonishment.

Another flight of stairs. His feet pounded reluctantly against the stone floor, each step sending a wave of shock through his lanky form. Not far now. The door of the throne room was just in sight. If only could just reach it...

Mordred raised his hand. A slow smile crept up his lips, lowering the temperature of the room by at least ten degrees. Even with all his training, the king could not help but shiver.

Five more metres. He reached out for the door in desperation, the usual twinkle in his eyes replaced with a desperate plea that he was not too late...

"Today, Arthur, you die..."

Just two more metres. Two short metres...

"...as payment for all those you and your father have burnt."

The doors were suddenly flung wide open and the manservant burst through the door, his arm out stretched and his eyes glowing bright gold.

And Mordred was flying through the air.

But the manservant had only eyes for his master. For Arthur's face was the picture of shock, confusion... And betrayal.

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As always, reviews and criticisms shall be much appreciated and thanks to Mike for his review since I can't reply to guest reviews.

Next chapter: the aftermath of the revelation and the battle begins...

jellyblobs


	4. Chapter 3 Unavoidable

I think a double apology is needed here - firstly, sorry for the delay, but I'm a really slow writer and I wanted to get the reactions just right and secondly, I had to cut this chapter a bit since I just couldn't fit all the action of the battle in as well, so that'll be in the next chapter, I promise!

Also, I've been thinking carefully about how I want the characters to develop and as a result, I've gone back to the previous two chapters and just added in a few sentences mostly to do with the emotions of the characters - nothing major or plot related, but I thought I should tell you...

I don't own Merlin, but please enjoy!

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Chapter 3 – Unavoidable

Merlin sighed, a sigh that spoke of resignation, tiredness and pain. Such pain.

It registered only dimly in Arthur's mind that it was very unlike Merlin to display resignation and tiredness, or even to sigh. He'd always been filled with such energy and optimism. Too much he had once thought, but now he was not so sure. He wasn't even sure that he had ever known the real Merlin anymore. He wasn't sure what to believe.

Thoughts and emotions raced through his mind in a whirlpool of chaos, spinning and swirling together as if someone was beating up his brain with a whisk. Yet he felt oddly detached. Everything was clouded by a thick fog of numbness – it was as if someone had turned down the volume, faded the picture, diluted the taste… and he was grateful for it. He did not want to acknowledge the emotions that would surely pierce his heart. No, he much preferred it this way. He preferred the nothingness. But the spinning was getting faster, the thoughts more insistent. Emotions began to claw away at the fog unrelentingly. His shield was weakening. It was going to break…

Merlin seemed to brace himself to speak and when he did, it was a mere whisper. A plea.

"Arthur, please-"

And the shield broke.

"You... After everything we've been through… You…" Emotions tumbled out of him, rendering him incoherent, but he made no further attempt to restrain them. "You _lied_ to me…All this time…"

Merlin was silent for a second. The pain in his intensely blue eyes pierced Arthur's soul and mirrored his own.

"I'm sorry, Arthur" was all he said.

And for Arthur, those three small words were like oil poured on embers. The flames flared up instantly, exploding with sparks and violently consuming him with fire. The fire was blinding. It burned in his mind, in his veins, in his soul. And when he spoke, each word was like a red hot iron pressed against Merlin's pale skin.

"You're sorry? That's it, is it? You BETRAYED me! I trusted you and all this time, all you've done is LIE!"

And suddenly his sword was at Merlin's chest.

The young man did not flinch. He did not even move a muscle. All that changed was his eyes. They were the only windows that revealed the volley of emotions coursing through his heart. People always said that a man's eyes were windows into his soul. And at that moment, his blindingly blue eyes and their infinite depths were filled with a pool of sadness. A pool so deep and a sadness so strong that you could drown in them.

"Arthur, please." The tremor in his voice was like a chink in his façade of calmness.

But Arthur ignored him.

"Give me one reason I shouldn't kill you right now! You would do it to me!" A small part of his brain berated him for this untruth, but the fire was all-consuming. His hand was shaking. He wanted to cause the man in front of him pain. He wanted to pierce his heart like he had done to his. He-

"No, no, I wouldn't!" Merlin interrupted with agonising desperation, but Arthur continued ruthlessly.

"You wanted to get close to me to uproot Camelot, is that it? You're-"

"No, please stop-"

"You're just like Morgana and Agravaine and Mordred!"

"No, NO! I'm not!"

"YOU HAVE MAGIC!"

Arthur waved his hands in frustration and despair as his eyes fixated upon Merlin's. Those three words still echoed in his brain. _You have magic. Merlin has magic. Merlin-_ And suddenly a wave of overwhelming pain crashed over the blazing fire, consuming it in every corner of his body. He stumbled back, his legs suddenly weak and the sword dropped to the ground with a resounding crash, as all the fight left him.

"Why, Merlin, why?" His head was in his hands now and his words quieter yet no less shuddering with emotion, but he dared not look up at Merlin, as if all of a sudden scared of what the warlock's expression would confirm. "Is there something wrong with me? Is that it? Something that makes all the people I trust betray me?"

"Arthur…" Merlin's voice was gentle. "I would never-"

"NO!" Arthur shook his head frantically. "No," he repeated more quietly, "Just – let me think, ok? I, I need to think this through. Just, just give me some time. Yes, some time. Alone. Alone…"

Then, shaking his head once more, he sprinted out of the door.

"No, Arthur! Come back!" But his cries were useless. "Please come back... please…"

Merlin's voice grew softer and softer as sobs racked his wiry frame. Tears rolled out of his glistening eyes and down his cheeks as he begged again and again for Arthur to come back and to listen to him explain. For he could explain. He could explain everything. He would make everything ok again.

But Arthur did not return. And as the helplessness finally struck home, Merlin collapsed to his knees… and wept.

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As always, reviews and criticisms are welcomed with open arms! And thanks to the guest who reviewed the last chapter -I'm really glad you liked it!

Next chater: Action and fighting!

jellyblobs


	5. Chapter 4 Victims of Destiny 1

I don't own Merlin!

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Chapter 4 – Victims of Destiny (1)

_Arthur did not return. And as the helplessness finally struck home, Merlin collapsed to his knees… and wept._

"And that is why you should not have stopped me, Emrys."

Merlin span around at the cold voice that sounded in his head, his face still smudged with tear tracks, his heart hammering, his hand outstretched, ready to-

"Forþ fleoge" The spell slipped from Mordred's lips almost lazily, but the effect was instantaneous.

Physical pain was added to the pain in his heart as Merlin's back crashed against the stone walls and his breath was crushed forcefully out of his lungs. The room slipped out focus. A shrill blare pierced his already pounding head. And the world span and spiralled in unison with the churning of his stomach, gaining an odd sparkling quality as, crumpling to the floor in pain, he watched the smudged outline of the young knight descend slowly upon him.

"You really thought that Arthur would just accept you after all this time? You really thought that he would welcome a _sorcerer_ with open arms? That he would thank you for saving his life all those times with a force that he hates?"

"Arthur is a good man!" Merlin gasped through gritted teeth. "One day, he will unite the lands of Albion and allow magic to be used freely again. You tried to kill the one man that can bring freedom to us all, Mordred!"

"And you betrayed our kind for a king who will never accept you for who you really are! You have stood by and watched him murder countless of our people. If you still believe in those stupid prophecies and think that _he_ will free our kind, then you are a _fool_, Emrys."

He sneered at the flash of barely concealed pain in Merlin's eyes that quickly hardened into a steely determination. Destiny could not be wrong.

"And I'm afraid that you shall have to pay for your weakness," continued Mordred.

And with that, he raised his hand once more.

"Forbærne! Ácwele."

Conjured from thin air, a ball of wild angry fire was hurling through the room, faster and faster, with one goal, one destination, closer and closer-

But this time Merlin was ready for him.

Still wheezing, his eyes flashed molten gold and a water-like film of pure translucent energy erupted before him.

In that second, fire hit water and rebounded upon its conjurer.

Mordred toppled backwards, cursing as he clutched the great, gaping black hole singed into his armour, before falling against one of the giant oak chairs that lined the room. His eyes closed against the pain.

The shield vanished and Merlin panted heavily from the exertion. For a while he just laid there, a great wave of tiredness sweeping over his body and mind. But he knew that he had to get up. Arthur could hate him for who he was - he could banish him, torture him or even attempt to execute him, but he would never be able to stop Merlin from protecting him, because that was his destiny and no matter what Mordred said, he would always believe in the world that Arthur would one day create. And it was this thought and this thought alone that gave him the determination to finally stagger to his feet and advance towards the boy who wished to kill his king.

He watched as the pale body shuddered with rasps of pain, the face contorted in agony. So young. Yet so filled with bitterness and hate. His hand hesitated above the mop of raven black hair, the words that would end the boy's life stuck in his throat.

Then Mordred's eye lids flew open .The irises they revealed were bright gold.

And Merlin was once again crashing against the wall, with darkness threatening to envelop him. The bliss that it offered - the escape from all the types of pain that clawed away at his inside - it had a magnetic pull. Inviting him. But for Arthur, Merlin resisted.

"W-Why are you doing this, Mordred?" He managed to choke out between desperate gasps for air.

"Why am I doing this?" Incredulity was etched in his exasperated tone and for the first time ever, Merlin witnessed a high pitched laugh wrench itself from the throat of the boy, who had once sought his help in a time of fear and need. It was a humourless laugh. A laugh that roused the thorns of terror in people's spines like no laugh ever should. The laugh of a person who seemed to have forgotten the purpose of the gesture, the knowledge erased by years of hatred and sorrow. A bitter laugh. Life had been harsh to Mordred.

"Why am I doing this?" he repeated as he advanced on the form of the crumpled warlock once again. An old pain filled his eyes as he answered, "Why did Uther's hatred and cruelty force an innocent boy to watch the execution of his equally innocent father? Why did they persecute and hunt down a fearful child who had done them no harm, for a something that he was born with? Why did Arthur help me to escape only so that I could watch again and again as he murdered those who offered me kindness and a home?"

Then his face became steely and his voice rose in anger, mesmerising Merlin with his words. "Why did you, _Emrys_, you who I begged for help when I was afraid, you who are supposed to be my kin, why did _you_ try to take my life even before I had so much as thought of murdering men in cold-blood like your friend the king? The crystal of Neahtid was an instrument of knowledge, not a weapon, yet you let dozens of men die so that it could be locked away in a vault." His voice dropped to a mere whisper as he continued. "If you had wanted your precious Arthur to live, then you should not have forced me to kill those two knights that day, because you pushed me across the line, Emrys. You showed me what a cruel world this is. You and you alone – not Uther, not Arthur, no, _you_, _Emrys_, showed me the true meaning of betrayal."

The words hit Merlin hard. The ring of truth in them pierced his heart. Pierced the dams he had built up so many years ago to keep back whirling torrents of guilt, allowing the sudden rush to paralyse him. _He had never even given Mordred a chance to display his true character. _

"And for that, you will pay."

_He had tried to kill a child with no justification other than a destiny he had yet to attempt to fulfil. Instead of helping him, he had made him into a murder. He had ensured that he was all alone in the world. He had filled him with bitterness and hatred. It was he, Merlin, who had-_

And before Merlin could wrench himself from his thoughts, the dagger flying through the air was inches from his chest. Panic and fear rose in his throat. It was too late. He could not stop it. In sheer desperation, his eyes flashed a gold more intense than ever before. Time slowed down as his magic reached out, but the dagger was going too fast, the force behind it too strong. He pushed at it with all his might, but it only shuddered almost imperceptibly. It was getting closer. He pushed again. It veered very slightly to the right. Yes! He had to bend it off course. He reached deep within him and summoned all the energy he could find and threw it at the dagger. It began bending further to the right-

Then it hit him.

Pain flared outwards from his shoulder. His magic screamed at the impact. What energy was left within him exploded out of his body in a vain attempt to protect its owner from the all-consuming pain. Windows shattered. Chairs were flung against the walls, crumpling into heaps of old wood.

And Mordred was blasted into the air.

Then and only then did Merlin finally succumb to the darkness.

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Thank you to Meri Ley for her extremely useful review of the last chapter and to anyone else who has favorited, followed or shown their support in any other way! I really do love to hear your views and will try my best to take what you say into account, so if you have any suggestions or ideas for things I could include, or even just plain criticisms, please please please do drop me a review or PM me!

I would also be really grateful to know if you liked it! We're given so little information on Mordred and what he actually thinks - there's so many possible interpretations of him, but I didn't want to make him just evil. I'm not sure if it worked, so what do you think?

Next chapter: Morgana, Mordred, Arthur and a wounded Merlin all in the throne room. Things are going to get even more intense...

jellyblobs


	6. Chapter 5 A Gathering of Old Friends

I don't own Merlin!

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Chapter 5 – A Gathering of Old Friends

The city had erupted into pandemonium. Red flashed from every direction as Camelot's knights feigned, blocked and darted, their capes flailing behind them. Red flew as swords slashed, slashed and slashed again. Red blazed as fires consumed houses. Red was everywhere.

Arthur's knights fought valiantly – their fame as the best of the five kingdoms was well deserved. They rose to the occasion brilliantly. Months of preparation were countered out by sheer determination, magic by years of training. But skill, courage and honour, no matter how great, could not fight numbers. They were overwhelmed by numbers. Each man slain was replaced by another, as the attack continued relentlessly, the stream of soldiers entering the city seemingly endless. And, even whilst they battled on against soldiers, spells and fatigue alike, each knight knew in his heart that it was useless.

They were losing.

It was evident in the cacophonous music that rent through the air. The screeching clangs of swords upon swords, the desperate battle cries roared out by determined soldiers, the fearful neighing of well trained horses… And the screams. Most of all, it was evident in the screams.

But all seemed distant within the cold, stone walls of the castle. Like a buzz of chatter in the background – easily ignored, if not for its more sinister notes.

Perhaps, for the black hooded figure striding purposefully through the corridors, battle really was just as routine as idle chit-chatter, for she seemed so oblivious to the bloodshed. There was no fear or uncertainty in her movements – her stride, though brisk, had a certain grace, self-assurance radiated from her posture, and an aura of such intense power exuded from her every pore that servants and courtiers alike were sent scuttling away in her wake. Few were brave enough to stand in her way and those that did did so in vain, for she blasted them away with mere flashes of her eyes, as if they were no more than pesky insects – annoying, but hardly worth her bother.

Morgana carved her path through the castle that had once been both prison and home to her with only one destination in mind – the throne room.

The instant she had felt Mordred's pain, she had known that something had gone wrong. No doubt Emrys has seen fit to intervene again. Anger filled her at the thought. The traitor. How dare he harm the young boy! How dare he! But no matter, this time, she would have her revenge. He could not stop her forever and today, he would pay for trying. Even the mighty Emrys didn't stand a chance against two powerful sorcerers and an immense army. He was just one man after all. A man distracted by his need to protect another. _Her dear brother_. Her lips curled upwards at the thought. How devastated Merlin would be when she ensured that he failed in his destiny.

She would find Mordred and together, they would kill Arthur. They would kill everyone who had ever been loyal to him.

And they would make Emrys watch.

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Arthur had burst out of the throne room intending to find some peace in which to recollect his thoughts. Instead, he had burst right into the middle of a battle.

It was just his luck, his still reeling brain grumbled, as he determinedly pushed aside all the thoughts constantly shoving at his mind and whipped out his sword to begin sparring with the nearest intruder.

Was magic really so intent to rob him of his sanity? It kept pushing him closer to edge, testing the limits of his endurance. Betrayal after betrayal, pain followed by guilt, fear by pain. And now, right after its latest and most terrible attack of all, it felt the need it overwhelm him yet further with this. With _this_.

From the glance out of the window that he managed to snatch, he noted that the heart of the fray still seemed to be outside the castle, where the majority of enemy troops were being held off by his knights. It was a small relief. At least only the few he was now fighting had managed to breach their defences and actually infiltrate the castle. But he should _not_ have to be battling inside his own castle, he reminded himself. _None_ of them should have been able to get inside. None of his knights should have to be thrown into a war like this, with no preparation, no warning.

They had been taken completely by surprise - no doubt Mordred had managed to ensure that the patrols responsible for alerting them to any dangers somehow just _missed_ the colossal and extremely dangerous army camped right outside their walls. He grunted in indignation at the thought. Were his security measures really that useless? Vaguely, he wondered how he had been able to thwart all those magical attacks… If sorcerers had such power…

A bubble of the same blinding anger from before rose in him again and the soldier before him, struck by a particularly vicious blow, fell to the ground, dead. His body was flung unceremoniously to the side as the king moved on to his next victim without sparing him a second glance.

Arthur's mind was reeling again. How corrupting must such power be to turn an innocent little boy into the man that had caused such bloodshed? How evil must it be to cause such pain? But that wasn't right… The druids used magic and yet they were a peaceful people, weren't they? But wasn't Mordred a druid? Had he been wrong to stop persecuting the druids? It had seemed so right at the time… But hell, if magic was corrupting enough to turn _Merlin _(his heart clenched at the thought) into- Into what exactly? He was so confused. So, so confused. He didn't know what to think anymore. Everything that had seemed so simple had somehow transformed into a jumbled mess of anything but simplicity – a mess so shambolic that it rivalled even Merlin's bedroom. He had woken up to the exasperatingly jovial voice of his maddening, bumbling idiot of a manservant – the man he had berated countless times for being the very embodiment of simple-mindedness. He had felt annoyed, exactly like he had every day of the past however many years. But now… Now, he would give anything to have the mindless idiot back, for everything to revert back to their previous straight-forward state, to wake up from this whole nightmare.

His sword was merciless as it swung and swiped at the terrified man before him, its wielder tirelessly channelling his feelings into every stroke. The soldier's pleas fell upon unhearing ears and his fear sparked no hint of compassion in the distant-looking blue eyes that guarded such a tornado of emotions. Within seconds, he too had fallen next to his companion.

King Arthur rounded the corner, searching for his next victim, needing desperately to regain that calming sense of purpose that the fighting had temporarily provided. He spotted a black hooded figure heading towards him and hurriedly ducked into an alcove, his battle instincts springing into action as he prepared to launch a surprise attack. The figure was just coming into view. He could see the ripples in her black cloak. He could just make out a mess of raven black hair and beneath the curls, beneath them, a face…

Frozen in the dark alcove, Arthur merely watched as Morgana strode past. Her fluttering cloak had all but disappeared from sight before the realisation of where she was heading hit him.

The throne room.

Where Merlin was.

And without pausing to think, without time to consider his actions, Arthur raced after her. Only one thought was clear to him as he let his habitual feelings of protectiveness pervade his mind.

Merlin could not die.

Because deep in his heart, beneath all his anger, Arthur knew that no matter what happened, no matter how he did, Merlin was still Merlin. The man who would willingly give his life and run face first into all types of danger to protect his friend. The man who had proved this not moments ago. The man who deserved Arthur's protection.

And Arthur would never be able to bear the thought of him dead. Nor would he ever forgive himself if he just stood by and let it happen.

Besides, Merlin had a _lot_ of explaining to do.

And filled with such thoughts, Arthur burst into the throne room.

The sight that met his eyes froze him once more.

But it was not Morgana's victorious smirk, or the steadily expanding lake of blood on the floor, or even the dagger hovering unsupported inches from his manservant's chest that alarmed Arthur.

No, what alarmed Arthur was the look of tired resignation and such absolute despair in his eyes.

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Review? Pretty, pretty please? Because this chapter took ages and just somehow wouldn't come out _right_. I'm still not entirely convinced by Arthur's reactions. And if I'm not convinced, then I don't suppose you are? Hence why I really, really want to know what you think and any suggestions as to how I could improve it would also be very much appreciated!

And thank you so much to ruby890 and jo for their reviews of the last chapter, as well as anyone who has favourited, followed or simply read! You don't know how much it means to me to know that there are people out there who actually want to read my work and leave such lovely comments!

Next chapter: Well, I think you can guess... Morgana isn't exactly going to just ignore Arthur now, is she? And how's Merlin going to react to Arthur's sudden appearance? You'll have to wait to find out... Mwahhaha!

jellyblobs


	7. Chapter 6 To Die or Not to Die?

Warning: may result in minor depression... Please don't kill me!

I don't own Merlin

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Chapter 6 – To Die or Not to Die?

_Then and only then did Merlin finally succumb to the darkness._

However, it seemed that, for the almighty Emrys destined to bring magic back to the land, simply taking a break from destiny was not an option and even the temporary reprieve offered by blissfully benumbing unconsciousness could not be allowed for long.

At least that was what Merlin thought when, only moments after he had closed his eyes (or so it seemed), a reverberating _crash_ wrenched him back into the world of white hot pain he had been so grateful to leave.

His eye lids felt so heavy. He didn't have the energy to open them. He was so tired. So, so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying. Tired of the pain. He had run across half the castle, saved the prat's life, faced one of his worst nightmares, pulled himself together again, battled an extremely powerful warlock, been flung into the wall multiple times and the little energy he had left was slowly but surely seeping out of his shoulder.

He couldn't take any more. He didn't have the _energy_ to deal with any more. He needed it all to stop. The pain. The uncertainty. The fear that Arthur might never forgive him. It was too much. Too unbearable. What wouldn't he give to escape again! To just drift away. To feel nothing…

"Well, well, well! This is going to be easier than I thought!"

The words sounded so distant, but dimly he registered the voice. So pleased. So full of victory. Yet completely _wrong _because somehow, there was no joy in it at all. It took a second for his sluggish brain to realise why it was so awfully familiar.

_No. No. Not now. Just shut it out. Just ignore it._

But he forced the thought down. This was a situation he could not just avoid. So, slowly, wearily, mustering what energy he could find, he heaved his eye lids open with reluctant muscles.

The sight that met his eyes was not good.

Towering over him, proud and smug, with a victorious smirk playing across her hate-filled features, was the only person who could have made his day worse – Morgana Pendragon. And, inches from his chest, hovering like an offered gift, was an ornately jewelled, shiny and awfully sharp… dagger.

He smiled then, because he knew that finally, it was all going to end.

How many times had he prepared himself for death? To die for Arthur – to sacrifice his life so that the Once and Future King might live and the time of Albion might dawn. And each time, he had survived and he had been glad because it meant that maybe, just maybe, he might one day truly be free and accepted for who he really was. But now, now he would never live to see that day. He would never witness the product of all his hard work.

It was sad really. Arthur was still angry at him; maybe he even hated him. He would never get the chance to mend that friendship, or to even try to regain his trust. But maybe it was better that way - perhaps Mordred had been right, perhaps Arthur really would never have accepted him for who he was. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to bear that.

So he didn't try to fight. He knew that it would have been useless anyway – he was weak, he was tired and even if he could summon the energy to turn the dagger around, it wouldn't take more than an instant for Morgana to force it back. Besides, it was so close that that option would have been too dangerous anyway. One attempt and it would pierce his heart. The outcome would be the same either way, so what was the point in trying? What was the point in speeding up the inevitable?

Morgana knew that she had won. The glint in her eyes said it all. She had conquered her doom, outwitted destiny and she knew it.

They both knew it.

All that was left was the action itself.

Yet images of the goofy grin that had once filled her heart with such joy, of the compassionate smile that she had once sought for comfort and of the boy she had once called her friend plagued her. Her mind screamed that this whole situation was wrong. _So_ wrong. Because this man in front of her could not be _Merlin_. The despair, the resignation – it just wasn't _right_. He was meant to be hopeful, to never give in, to be always fighting…

But then her gaze fell upon the limp form of Mordred upon the floor and the gruesome burn upon his chest and her eyes hardened with hatred once more. Merlin had done this. He had forced them all into this situation. He had to pay the price.

So her eyes flashed gold.

And the dagger was advancing. And Merlin was staring into Morgana's emerald eyes one last time, a lifetime of regrets and sorrows communicated with that one glance. And it was going to happen.

It was going to hit.

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Ok. I'm sorry I ended it there, but it was getting too long... Fortunately, that means the next part is already pretty much finished and ready to be posted soon!

And I know you're tired of hearing me beg for reviews, but they really are so helpful and make me so happy (I got 7 for the last chapter and it made my day!). Thank you so much guys!

In response to the guest who asked about Gwen, her and Gaius and Gwaine will be around soon! I'm sorry I've had to kind of ignore them, but I wanted to remain focussed and they would have got in the way. I haven't forgotten about them though and hopefully I will be able to fit in a bit of Arthur/Gwen later on, so please do keep reading!

Next chapter: The bit where Arthur storms in from C5 - basically what I said was going to be in this chapter, but this time I am certain!

jellyblobs


	8. Chapter 7 Victims of Destiny 2

As promised, the next chapter! Enjoy!

I don't own Merlin!

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Chapter 7 - Victims of Destiny (2)

_Her eyes flashed gold. _

_And the dagger was advancing. And Merlin was staring into Morgana's emerald eyes one last time, a lifetime of regrets and sorrows communicated with that one glance. And it was going to happen, it was going to hit._

But then Arthur was there. And he was tackling Morgana to the ground.

And then he was crashing onto floor at the other side of the room and Morgana was raising her hand to strike again.

What happened next was all a blur to Merlin.

All he remembered thinking was that Arthur, his Arthur, his pompous, supercilious, condescending prat of a king was in trouble. Arthur needed him and when had Merlin ever abandoned Arthur when he needed him?

So the next he knew, Morgana was a crumpled heap on the floor and raw power and adrenaline were coursing through his veins as he advanced on her, blood still flowing freely out of his shoulder, a new steely determination in his eyes.

Morgana sent fireball after fireball and spell after spell at him, but he waved each off with a flick of his wrist. She was growing more panicked, more desperate. Her spells were getting wilder. Windows shattered and shards of glass were raining through the air, angry blue flames were hurtling forwards, torrents of water, whirling tornadoes… But each spell only disintegrated when it hit the stormy cloud of pure magic that crackled around the warlock.

And then the jewelled dagger was hovering at Morgana's throat and her eyes were futilely blazing a constant gold.

"You shouldn't have done that," Merlin whispered and he was surprised to hear the calmness and control that radiated from his voice.

"Well maybe I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't decided to poison me all those years ago!" She didn't know what made her say it, only that she was desperate and afraid. More afraid than she had been in a long time. She didn't want to die, but she knew not how to protect herself. She couldn't defeat him. She was helpless - completely at his mercy and she hated it. She hated the vulnerability that she knew were plain in her eyes and the fear in her voice. So she reacted in the only way she could, in the only way she knew how – she lashed out with words.

Merlin faltered and for a moment, an old pain filled his eyes, years having eroded none of its intensity, but when he spoke, his voice was hard.

"You didn't leave me a choice, Morgana. People were _dying_-"

"They were asleep!" she snapped. "You could have left well alone and magic would have been returned to the land!"

"And how many innocent lives would you have sacrificed to satisfy your own greed for power?" Merlin retorted, his voice rising in hysteria.

"I didn't have a ch-"

"You always have a choice!"

There was silence then as both witch and warlock were momentarily overwhelmed by the pain of the past and thoughts of what could have been. When Merlin spoke once more, his voice was again quiet and calm, but the words shuddered with the crushing tide of sadness that he could not keep at bay.

"You could have used your magic for good, Morgana. Arthur is destined to be a great king. One day, he will bring magic back to the land. You could have helped make that happen."

At this, a humourless laugh escaped Morgana's lips and she fixed Merlin's eyes with an unwavering stare. "Destiny does not leave us the freedom of choice, Merlin. If Arthur is destined to be great king, then I am destined to do all in my power to stop him." Her tone was bitter. "Either destiny is right, or it's wrong, Merlin. Don't be so naïve as to think otherwise."

For a moment then, Merlin merely stared back. At the woman crumpled upon the floor in front of him. At the raw terror and helplessness hidden in her eyes. And he saw not the powerful witch who heartlessly murdered innocents without sparing them so much as a second glance, but the frightened girl who, plagued by nightmares, had confided in him all those years ago in quest of comfort and reassurance. The girl whom destiny had condemned to a life of hatred and bitterness hundreds of years before she was even born. The girl whom he had abandoned in her hour of need and tried to murder because he was too cowardly to risk his own skin and confide in her.

He had never given her a chance to choose a different path. He had never given Mordred a chance. And in that sense, she was right, it was he who had brought this all upon them.

And he knew that he could not murder a woman for his own mistakes. He had tried to do it before, he could not do it again. He owed her that much for poisoning her.

The dagger clanged to the floor.

"Go," he whispered, then when she did not move, more forcefully, "Go! Take Mordred and your armies and leave!"

Morgana merely stared at him in shock and incomprehension.

"GO!"

Then, with one last puzzled look in his direction, she disappeared in a whirl of smoke and steam, cradling the still limp form of Mordred to her chest.

Arthur watched, still frozen in shock and fear, as Merlin finally turned towards him. His eyes were fast fading to their usual blue and the pure power that had emanated from him and made Arthur shiver in fright had dissipated without a trace. His calm, authoritative stance vanished as he began swaying on his feet, struggling to support even his own weight. Within seconds, Merlin had reverted from the all-powerful warlock back to the clumsy manservant in need of Arthur's help and protection.

And so when, with blood still pouring relentlessly out of his shoulder and his face a ghastly death-like white, Merlin's legs began to give way beneath him, Arthur lunged forward and caught him without hesitation. The young man promptly fell into Arthur's arms and fighting the pressing darkness with one last effort, he smiled up at him. It was a weak smile, a poor imitation of his usually toothy grin, but a smile that spoke of relief and gladness.

"You came back," he muttered, before his eyes shut.

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As always, please please review and criticise! And thanks to natcel for her lovely review!

Next Chapter: Arthur being v. confused about magic

jellyblobs


	9. Chapter 8 Back with the Others

Ok, I think apologies are in order... I'm really, really sorry that it's been so long! I've been away without internet - I meant to warn you in an update before I went but unfortunately, I never managed to finish the chapter before going, so I wrote it on my profile, which I realise prob wasn't very helpful, since no one reads my profile, but... I think you get the idea. Please don't kill me, because then I won't be able to finish the story!

Also, this chapter is kind of a filler, so sorry if you find it a little disappointing! To try and make it up to you, I shall try and update again tomorrow!

Finally, I don't own Merlin!

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Chapter 8 – Back with the Others

The order to retreat rang out from the very walls of Camelot, Morgana's shrill shriek magically magnified tenfold and her confusion, hatred and anger all mingling in the words that reverberated through the haze of blood and bodies. Everywhere, confusion was giving way to sheer relief at still being alive, as soldiers scampered away in all directions, mindless of all but the need to get away from the bloodshed. Chaos reigned.

Through it all, the King of Camelot fought, clinging to the limp form of his skinny manservant as if it were his only lifeline. And as what little colour was left in the warlock's face slowly drained away, only one thing was clear to Arthur. He had to get to Gaius. Because the physician would fix Merlin and then Merlin could explain everything and then they'd all be alright. Everything would be alright.

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Guinevere Pendragon was busying herself in the physician's chambers, fetching vial after vial for the aged physician, bandaging wound after wound and whispering comforting words to the injured in every spare moment. Stretchers were hurried in in an endless stream, filling every floorboard of the small room with injured knights and citizens and servants, but not once did the queen rest, not once did she relent – she was the people's queen after all.

It was while she leant over a moaning Sir Belivore, gently dabbing at the bloody gash on his thigh whilst murmuring words of comfort she wasn't even sure the half-conscious man understood, that the king burst into the room.

"Arthur!" Gwen rushed forward at once.

Gaius looked up, startled by her cry to see the king standing in the doorway, dishevelled yet still imposing with an alarmingly wild look in his eyes. He had just opened his mouth to ask what the matter was, when his eyes fell on the raven haired man in his arms and the sticky red liquid dripping slowly onto the floor.

The old man instantly rushed to his ward's side and began assessing his injuries.

"Oh, my boy. What have you done this time…" He visibly paled as Arthur lowered the young man onto the table and his injuries were revealed.

"Extensive bruising to his back, a fractured rib, heavy blood loss, as well as the obvious wound to his shoulder," Gaius reeled off, forcing himself back into the detached professionalism of a physician and forcing down the temptation to inquire as to what happened. That could wait until later. "Gwen, get some water. I need to clean the wound to prevent infection."

"There isn't any water left!"

"None at all?"

"No, I'll go-"

"NO," Arthur interrupted. "No, it's too dangerous. Morgana's army haven't all left yet. I'll go."

"No, Arthur-"

"Sire, you mustn't," Gaius cut in. The words pained him, but his tone was firm. "Merlin would not want you risking yourself for him and you cannot defend yourself against Morgana's magic. We must wait."

"No, Gaius, we can wait, but Merlin can't," Arthur retorted, projecting all the kingly authority he could muster into his voice. "I'm going."

Arthur made to head out of the door again, but Gaius' voice halted him.

"Sire." There was a quiet sort of resignation in his voice, but also a flicker of hope he could not supress, because try as he might, he could not help feeling a little glad that Arthur had decided not to heed his warnings, that he would be able to help Merlin. It was selfish, he knew, but the thought of having to watch his beloved ward suffer whilst unable to help was more than he could bear. So, all he said when the king turned to him enquiringly was a simple "Be careful."

Arthur nodded once, then turned to go again, but before he could make it out of the door, he was stopped yet again by another voice. A quieter, weaker, rasping voice.

"Arthur…"

At once, the three figures by the door span around as one.

"Merlin!" Gaius called out with a mixture of shock and relief. For indeed, the words had come from the manservant. The boy was currently attempting to sit up, though how he expected to do so with his wounds and evident exhaustion was a mystery to all present. His eyes were barely open, their azure orbs were glazed over with pain, but again he opened his mouth to address the king, who was hovering uncomfortably by the door now that Merlin was awake.

"Arthur," he muttered breathlessly, "Don't bother."

Arthur opened his mouth to retort, but Merlin stopped him with a wave of his hand. Even the small gesture seemed to drain him of energy, for he fell back onto the table, all thoughts of propping himself up forgotten.

"It's okay," he whispered, "It's okay…" He took a deep breath, closing his eyes briefly against the pain and when he opened them again, they were momentarily a feeble gold. It was only for a second, a mere blink of the eye and you would miss it, but the empty basin beside the table immediately filled with water.

The effect was instantaneous.

Gwen gasped. The vial she was holding crashed to the ground. Gaius' eyes shot to Arthur's. And the king's face cleared of all emotion, as though all of a sudden, blinds had been drawn down in all the windows. His eyes did not leave Merlin and he did not blink. Not once.

The warlock, having exhausted the last of his energy stores, had slumped back into unconsciousness and after a second, Gaius seemed to notice this, for he rushed back to his side, immediately pushing all thoughts to the back of his mind as he began tending to his ward.

But Gwen stood frozen. She knew not what was going on, knew not what to do. She could only stare, open mouthed at her friend, her _injured_ _and bleeding_ friend, but she could not move to help him. She couldn't move at all. Even her mind had ground to a halt as she just continued to stare at the man before her. It was a full five minutes before Gaius' call for help penetrated the wall of dumbness that had surrounded her senses. She shook herself and forced herself to concentrate on the situation at hand. Merlin was injured. The man who had always been there for her, even during the darkest moments of her exile was in need of her help and she was just standing there. He had always stood by her. She could not dessert him now, no matter what. Not even…Not even what had just happened. _This is Merlin, _she told herself. _He's the most loving and kind-hearted person I know and he needs help, so don't just stand there! You can think about this all later!_

Shaking herself internally again, she rushed forward to assist the physician, glancing anxiously around her as she suddenly became aware of the chorus of groans coming from patients in various states of consciousness and the noisy bustling of servants. Thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed that anything was amiss. Except… Gwaine was standing in corner of the room, still clasping one end of a stretcher, but seemingly unaware of that fact. His eyes were fixated upon Merlin's skinny form and there was such intensity in his gaze, such a surging fusion of emotions. Then suddenly, as if sensing her gaze, he glanced at her fleetingly before all but running out of the door.

_Things aren't going to be easy for any of us, _she thought.

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There you are! Hope it was okay... If not, please drop me a review to tell me what you'd like to see changed and if it was, please drop me a review anyway! You know how much I love them! And thanks to Gummilolipop for her review of the last chapter!

Also, I'm going to give up on the next chapter teasers - one, I don't really tend to stick to them and two I've realised they're a bit mean... But please do stay with me!

jellyblobs


	10. Chapter 9 The Calm Between Storms

Ok. I know. Don't make promises you can't keep... But it's here! So please just read it before judging me...

As always, I don't own Merlin and I doubt that will change anytime soon.

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Chapter 9 – The Calm Between Storms

The king had not moved from the battered old stool by Merlin's bedside since Gaius had finished tending to the warlock's wounds; nor had he spoken except to briefly inform the old physician of what had happened in the throne room. He just sat there. Just sat there, while a hodgepodge of thoughts pounded in his head, bashing against his skull like an angry mob fighting to escape captivity.

When he had watched Morgana stride down that corridor, he hadn't had time to think - he had just acted, let his instincts take over. He had been so certain of what he needed to do, so sure of himself, but now… Now, he was anything but sure. He was so terribly _unsure_. The fight happening within his brain was relentless; each thought was pressing forward for acceptance, only to be batted away by another completely contradictory idea and there was nothing whatsoever to distract him from the darkness of his own mind.

He stared at the figure sprawled on the bed before him. So peaceful. So _content_. Sleep had smoothed out the lines of pain etched into his face during his waking hours and washed away all evidence of all the hardships and burdens that most men twice his age would have been unable to bear. He looked so young. Like the kind-hearted and innocent boy he really was beneath. And Arthur could not reconcile the image of this injured and vulnerable-looking boy before him with that of an evil sorcerer. Now that his initial anger had faded, he could not bring himself to accept that Merlin could ever be capable of evil. He would not believe that years of friendship, of kindness could have all been an act. It was _Merlin_, for goodness sake! The man who hated hunting because he pitied the cute little hares and deer! No, Merlin could not be evil. He could not want Arthur dead and Camelot in ruins - he had plenty of chances of the years and each time, had he not worked with Arthur to prevent other sorcerers from doing precisely that? Had he not just proved that with his injuries?

But _Merlin_ was also a sorcerer. He practised magic. And magic was evil. But Merlin was not evil. So how could magic be evil?

_Don't presume to know the minds of sorcerers_, a voice in his head chided. It sounded suspiciously like his dead father. But he had always known that his father's stance on magic had been rather extreme, hadn't he? His father would have had Merlin burnt at the stake, but Arthur knew that idea to be unthinkable. It would have been cruel – no, _wrong_ - after everything Merlin had done. But had there not been terrible consequences each time he had gone against his father's views of magic? Was Mordred's betrayal and his father's death not enough to teach him never to question that magic was pure evil?

But Gaius had said that the old sorcerer, Dragoon, had tried to heal his father and that something had gone wrong. After all, he could have just left Uther to die naturally – it would have been inevitable, but no. Instead, he had asked Arthur to lift the ban on magic in exchange for his father's life and Arthur had seen the hope and pure joy that had filled the man's eyes when he had agreed. He had truly wanted magic to be _peacefully_ restored to the land – for magical people and non-magical people to live together in _harmony_. But he had failed.

And now Arthur had no idea what to do.

He did not know whether magic was evil. He did not know whether or not he could ever trust Merlin again after all those years of lies and deceit. He no longer knew what was true and what was a lie, what was reality and what was not. He didn't seem to know anything for sure any more. In the space of one morning, the two things he had known as unquestionable truths – that magic was evil and that Merlin was his friend – had been questioned. And his life had subsequently descended into chaos.

* * *

Merlin had felt so content in his bubble of peace and warmth, but then it had popped – just like that - and slowly his senses began to return to him. First the pain. Then the terrible feeling of weakness. Then the memories. Oh, the memories! And lastly, his eyes drifted open to find Arthur sitting at his bedside, a look of deep contemplation on his face.

"A-hur..." He was surprised at how croaky and weak he sounded, at how even the barely intelligible word sent a sharp slice of pain through his chest and how he had to drag the air through his dry throat. He tried to get up, but the wave of pain only crashed down on his weakened body with increased force, pinning him against the bed.

The soft whimper that escaped his lips seemed to startle Arthur and he had to positively shake himself from his thoughts. The warlock's heart dropped when he realised what must have been going on in the king's mind… And sure enough, his fears were confirmed when the king spoke.

"Merlin, you're awake." It wasn't the words that were strange, no, it was the tone in which he said them. Somehow, it just did not sound right. It was too detached, too awkward. It was the tone people use to address a stranger they have only just met, not a friend they had been to hell and back with. _Friend_. Merlin wondered if Arthur would ever consider him such a thing again, but he pushed the thought down. He could not afford to lose faith. Not now. Not ever. Arthur had come back for him, hadn't he?

"Th-nk you."

This seemed to surprise the king, for he adopted a confused expression and arched his eyebrows.

"For coming back for me," Merlin replied to the unspoken question. "I know I didn't deserve it, but please, I'm sorry, just, just let me explain…"

"No." The word came out harsher than Arthur had intended and had Merlin flinching despite himself. Arthur hastened to clarify himself. "You need to rest and I need to think. Just let me try and puzzle this out for myself, alright?"

He didn't know why he recoiling from the idea, when his mind yearned for an explanation that would sort his thoughts out into any semblance of order, but for some reason, even thinking about discussing _magic_ with Merlin sent shivers of fear down his spine. He knew he would have to do it sooner or later, but he could not help taking the coward's way out and evading the issue for just a little longer. Just pretending that everything was normal and that the boy before him was still the best friend whom he trusted with all his heart for that few extra hours, because he knew that when the inevitable discussion came, he would have to face the fact that that was anything but the case. He would have to face the truth and make a decision. A decision that would determine the future of their relationship. And he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

An uneasy silence elapsed. One that eats away at you until you can bear it no longer and have to open your mouth to comment on the weather or make some equally brainless remark, knowing full well how stupid you sound, but not caring because anything is better than the silence. It pressed upon the warlock and filled him with a deep sadness that he could not keep from showing in his eyes.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Arthur voiced a thought that had been puzzling him for a while.

"Can't you just heal yourself with magic?"

Merlin looked briefly startled, then gave him a half-hearted smile, as he replied, "Well, I've never really been great at healing magic…"

But no teasing remark about his incompetence came and Merlin's smile fell.

The silence pressed in relentlessly once more.

Minutes crawled by.

Then Arthur spoke again.

"You let Morgana go."

It was a statement, not a question, but Merlin nodded anyway.

"I-I'm sorry, Arthur. I just couldn't do it. I owed it to her… I'm sorry." His tone pleaded for understanding, but Arthur did not reply, except to give a curt nod.

Silence.

Merlin wondered whether the king believed him or thought that he was somehow in league with Morgana, but surely he couldn't that that? After all he had done?

Another few seconds passed.

"She'll be back you know," Merlin said. "It won't be long now."

"I know," Arthur replied.

And this time, when the silence fell, it fell laced with grim understanding and acceptance.

* * *

So there you are! Unfortunately I have quite a bit more of the boring discussion stuff to get through before I can get back to the action, but it's kind of necessary, so I'll try my best not to bore you...

Thanks again for reviewing and forgiving me, as well as all those who have followed or favourited! Thank you so so much and please keep it up and I will be one happy bunny!

Till next time!

jellyblobs


	11. Chapter 10 The Enigma that was Merlin

Hi guys. I think you know what I'm going to say, but here it is anyway... I'm really sorry it's been so long, but I've just been so busy! And I probably will be until the end of the holidays now - I'm going away for a week, got work experience, etc. so I'm afraid updates are unlikely to be more often than once a week, but I will try to make chapters longer to compensate and get back to the asap. I have to say that this chapter is perhaps not the most exciting, but it was kind of necessary, so here you go!

I don't own Merlin!

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Chapter 10 – The Enigma that was Merlin

Dust motes danced lazily in the dim spotlight of the setting sun. The last shafts of light slanting through the windows reflected off of the many glass vials, shattering into glistening rainbows of criss-crossing colours and illuminating everything with a warm orange glow – the kind only ever seen at this time of day – soft and gentle. It was beautiful.

Having just finished attending to the last of his patients, Gaius guided Arthur to the chairs in a corner of the room untouched by the warm embrace of the sun and took it upon himself to do some explaining.

"Arthur," he began and his voice was weighted down by the weariness and wisdom of one who had seen kingdoms fall and eras end, of one who had witnessed far too much in his many years and who was tired. So tired that exhaustion bled from the pores and deep furrows of his aged face as he continued.

"Before you judge Merlin, I think you deserve to know the truth."

The king did not respond. No emotions crossed his face. No muscle so much as twitched. The only indication that he had heard at all was in his eyes, piercing and intense, both in colour and otherwise, like two glowing blue beads of life set in an empty mask.

Gaius took the king's silence as permission to continue.

"He never wanted to lie to you, you know," he said, voice becoming gentler and adopting a wistful lilt as he went on. "So many times, he came to me when all the deceit became too much to bear and each time, he wanted to tell you the truth, but each time I stopped him. I told him to be patient, to not lose faith, that one day you find out, one day you would know just how much he has done for you. One day. Always one day. But somehow it never seemed like that day. There was always some danger, some reason to be cautious and each time I would see a little more of his hope slipping away and I would tell myself that it was all for the best. Only now do I realise that I made a mistake. I let my concern for Merlin blind me and now it's too late. He never wanted you to find out like this, Arthur, but there's no going back. All I can do now is at least explain."

At this point, the old man took a deep breath, seemingly bracing himself before beginning his narrative. And he told Arthur everything. All the times Merlin had saved his life. All the accomplishments he knew Merlin had too much humility to boast about and all the sacrifices he would find too painful to discuss. He spoke of a powerful warlock and a just king. He spoke of destiny.

And all the while, Arthur listened with rapt attention. He drank it all in and for the first time since he saw Merlin's eyes glow gold, he thought about the situation from Merlin's perspective. He considered how it must have felt for the young man to endure his snide remarks and jibes at his intelligence, to be forced to do endless chores, to bear all that well-intended but nevertheless often unkind bullying, when all the while he was more powerful than them all. He could have conquered kingdoms, he could have made them kneel at his feet, and yet, if what Gaius was saying was true, he had chosen to help them from the background, sacrificing so much them, but never expecting any praise, never expecting any recognition. To say that Arthur was baffled by it all would have been an understatement.

The sun's last rays had faded below the horizon by the time the story had drawn to a close and for a long time, only darkness and silence possessed the air, as the physician's words continued to echo in Arthur's head. Then, finally, he spoke.

"I don't know, Gaius. All my life I've been taught that magic is evil. I've seen it proved again and again and… How can I just suddenly disregard everything my father has ever told me? How can I ever be sure of anything ever again?"

He was pleading and pleading really wasn't a very kingly thing to do, but he didn't care. He was so far beyond caring. He desperately needed to make sense of it all and Gaius was the closest thing to a parent Arthur had left. He needed his help.

The physician sighed.

"Arthur, magic is just power. Any type of power can corrupt, but equally, it can be used for good. You of all people should understand that, for it is no different from the power you hold as a monarch."

Somehow the words did not seem enough to Gaius. He needed to do more, to prove to Arthur once and for all that magic was not evil. And there was only one way to do it.

He sighed. This was _not_ going to be easy.

"Arthur, do you remember what Morgause told you after she beat you in that duel? About… About your mother."

Confusion and a hint of embarrassment flashed across Arthur's face, but he nodded.

There was a pause as Gaius took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second.

"She was telling the truth."

The statement was met by pure shock on Arthur's part at first, but then anger began to seep into his features and Gaius hastened to explain.

"Your father didn't know that it would kill your mother, or else he would never have agreed. He loved her dearly and the grief of her loss tore him apart, so he cannot be held responsible for her death."

"So you decided to lie to me!"

"You would never have forgiven yourself if Merlin had allowed you to kill your own father."

Arthur didn't know what to make of this new information (honestly, what was he meant to think?), but then another thought occurred to him. "Merlin convinced me that magic was not to be trusted just to save a man who would kill him without a moment's hesitation if he ever found out who he really was?" Disbelief was etched in his voice.

"No, sire. He did it so that you wouldn't have to carry the guilt and would have the strength to become the great king that he believes you will."

He just couldn't puzzle Merlin out and suddenly, he just didn't have the energy to try any more. He was just so tired. It was all so much to take in and he still really didn't know what he should feel towards his dead father or what make of all this new information. On top that had now been added the weight of Merlin's ridiculous expectations and needless to say, it was all just a little too much for one day.

Gaius seemed to take Arthur's silence for an inability to understand, for he added, "Merlin has never been afraid to make sacrifices."

"You don't say," Arthur muttered.

Really, Merlin was an enigma.

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Thank you so much for all the reviews of the last chapters. Seriously it was so nice of you to be all reassuring, when really you had every reason to send me death threats! As always, reviews and constructive criticism bring me happiness, so if you have a minute, please do write something! I do love to know what you think (even if it is that this chapter was utterly boring)!

jellyblobs


	12. Chapter 11 Destinies Troublesome Things

Ok, I'm awful, I know! It's been so long tht I bet you're all amazed that I'm updating, but I'm not going to give up on this story! I just went away for a week and then had a bit of writer's block - somehow, whenever I tried writing this chapter, it just didn't come out very good or at all right, so I figured that you'd prefer to wait a bit longer for a better quality chapter than be given a rubbish one... Having said that, it's not particulary long...

The thing is, I'm back at school now and school = lots of work, but also a regular routine, so I'm going to try my best to update weekly from now on, probaby at weekends, but not necessarily. I will also try and write longer chapters seeing as though the action should start again soon. Hope that's ok!

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin!

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Chapter 11 –Destiny Questioned

It had been a long day.

And now finally, in the serenity of the cold starlight streaming through his window, in the comfort of his own room, he could _finally_ relax.

The number of near-death encounters that Merlin had faced that day must have broken some kind of record, because it was a few too many even for him. Really, he had thought that his life really couldn't get any more difficult, but then again he should perhaps have known better. It was _him_, after all.

He sighed.

Destinies really were troublesome things.

Speaking of which, he still didn't know what his destiny intended to do with him. The prat of a king had just been so… Well that was the problem: he hadn't given any indications of his thoughts at all! Ever since that outburst in the throne room, Arthur's face had remained blank. No emotions. Nothing. All afternoon, he had just stood there, silent and brooding, until Merlin just couldn't stand it anymore. All the waiting and anticipation… It was too much. He just wanted Arthur to decide – to pass judgement. He just wanted it all to end.

How it would all end was another matter.

A part of him couldn't help wondering what if… What if Arthur never forgave him? What if he decided to banish him… or worse? It was ironic really. After all those magical creatures that he had faced, all those evil sorcerers and their enchantments, after everything that had happened, who would have guessed that it would be _Arthur, _Arthur his friend, Arthur the man he had been protecting all long, who would be the one to fill him with the most fear and dread?

He had never been afraid to die. He had been willing to lay down his life for his friends more times than he cared to remember. But _always_, always he did so knowing that his actions were ensuring that one day, things would be different or even just that the world not lose a good-hearted person and the people he loved would not lose a loyal friend. He did so because if his life was the price to pay for the happiness of others, then he would pay it gladly, with no hesitation.

But this was different. To die at the hand of a friend. To die because someone you love hates you. To die knowing that your actions broke a bond that you valued above all others… That was far more painful. That was something that Merlin could not consider.

And yet, if death was what Arthur chose for him, then Merlin would not blame him. He would understand. Whatever his decision, he would understand. How could he not? He had seen the man deal with betrayal after betrayal, be torn apart again and again and each time by someone whom he had trusted. And Arthur _had_ trusted Merlin - perhaps above all others – yet Merlin had lied to him. Whether Merlin had had good reason to do so was beside the point because the fact was that Merlin had lied - had lied since the day they met – and he knew what that must mean to Arthur.

So when the time came, he would understand, but until then, he would not lose hope because it simply wasn't in his nature to do so. He would have faith in Arthur's destiny. He would trust Arthur to make the right decision and act like the wise and just king that he was destined to become.

But then he remembered Morgana's words from earlier. _Either destiny is right, or it's wrong._ Perhaps she had been right: if he believed destiny when it dictated that Arthur would be a great king, then he had to accept that Morgana was always going to be evil. Yet he could not help remembering his one-time friend – the girl so filled with compassion and love that she had been unafraid to stand up for what she believed was right even if it meant spending the night in the dungeons. Was destiny really set in stone?

She had been confused and afraid and Merlin had made a choice – he had chosen not to confide in her, but would things have turned out differently if he had? After all, had he not prevented visions of the future from becoming reality more times than once? Would destiny still have become reality if the dragon had not told him of her destiny and had not warned him against trusting her?

Now, he wished that he had never known, because his knowledge of destiny had been precisely what had prompted him to cause destiny to come true in the cases of both Morgana and Mordred. It had been what had cost him two of his friends and the peace and happiness of so many others. Destiny had been using him as a mere tool. It had given him a purpose for his gifts – a purpose that he had so longed for – and so he had believed in it blindly, never once pausing to really consider it. He had been an idiot. How could he have never realised that a force as great as destiny wouldn't be interested in the happiness of ordinary people? It had decided how things should play out centuries ago and it had manipulated him into making sure that everything went according to its grand plan.

Only that grand plan also involved Mordred killing Arthur and he would never allow that. Now that he knew, he would no longer be a pawn in some great game.

He would write his own destiny.

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Hope that wasn't too.. weird. I don't know, I've just always found that the problem with a lot of merlin stories with happy endings (hint hint) is that _destiny_ says that that's wrong and that Merlin is supposed to get trapped in a cave ,etc. etc. So here's my kind of solution. Like? Hate? Don't understand? Please let me know! Review are much appreciated as always!

Thanks to the guest reviewers of the last chapter. One mentioned that they thought that Merlin would have been powerful enough to deflect the knife in Chapter 4. I guess what I meant to happen was for Merlin to be so distracted that he didn't really see it coming, so that he got hurt, because I'm mean... Sorry if it appeared a bit unrealistic!

jellyblobs


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